For Dad

       One

      Jesse winced as the bus kicked up a blinding cloud of dust into the parched air. As the bus disappeared beyond the curve in the highway, the roar of its diesel engine was slowly swallowed by the surrounding woods and replaced by an eerie, shimmering silence. Jesse took in the strange surroundings. The city was never this quiet, he thought. He rubbed the sunshine out of his eyes and turned to face the only building in sight. Across the road, a faded Greyhound Bus shingle hung above the door of a rundown gas station. Jesse grunted as he hoisted his heavy knapsack onto his shoulder, then trudged across the road towards the screen door and the cool shade within.

      Jesse regretted the moment he had allowed his mother to push him on to the bus. This was not his idea. He could have been cooling off with his friends in the community pool or playing Xbox in Jimmy's basement. Now he was stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere, and all because of that stupid letter from a long time ago. His mother could have, at the very least, shared the contents of the letter with him. Mom said that his uncle would explain everything, and that this trip was very important to his father. Jesse had wanted to remind her that his father was dead, and that there was no way Dad would ever find out that he had chosen to stay at home this summer. But he didn't say that to her. He couldn't. He hated talking about his father. As he reached for the door handle, Jesse realized that perhaps he should have spoken up about his dad when he had had the chance. Now, all he wanted was to be on another bus heading back south to Toronto.

      The screech of the door hurt his ears as he entered the tiny shop. He was disappointed to find out that it was just as hot inside the building as it had been moments before on the shadeless side of the road. A large man took his eyes off a newspaper and glanced over his long, hawkish nose at Jesse. His huge body was partially hidden behind a small counter, complimented by sturdy, chrome stools. His stained T-shirt was soaked with sweat.

      “Are you Jesse Picard?”

      “Yeah,” answered Jesse, stopping uncomfortably in the doorway.

      The man waved him in. “Welcome to Six Islands, Jesse. Your uncle told me to keep an eye out for you in case he was late.”

      Jesse walked up to the counter, dropped his knapsack on the floor and sat down heavily on one of the stools.

      “You know Uncle Matthew?”

      “Oh, sure,” chuckled the man. “Six Islands is not exactly Toronto, you know. Up here, everyone knows everyone else. That way we can look out for each other. By the way, people call me Moose.”

      Jesse shook the outstretched, massive hand. “Where's my uncle?”

      “He had to drive a client to the wharf to catch a float plane back to the city. Must be nice just to fly back and forth whenever you get the urge to fish, eh? Some people just have all the luck.”

      “Yeah,” agreed Jesse, wishing he could be on that float plane back to Toronto too.

      Moose seemed to understand Jesse's thoughts. He slapped the boy on the shoulder. “Let me get you an ice cream. It's on the house. What flavour do you like?”

      Jesse looked up at the flavours listed on the wall. “Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, please.”

      “Coming right up.” Moose grabbed a cone from the dispenser and opened the freezer. “I knew your dad, Jesse.”

      Despite the heat, Jesse felt a chill run down his back. “You did?”

      “Sure, went to school with him.”

      Moose passed him the cone. The cold treat didn't stand a chance against the relentless heat of the day and began to melt. Jesse quickly licked the drips before they reached his hand.

      “We were in the same grade,” continued Moose. “Your old man was a good person. Ambitious, too. He was just one of four from our class to make it to college or university.”

      “That's where he met Mom,” interjected Jesse. The story of how they had met as lab mates in a first year chemistry class flashed in his mind. Mom must have told him that tale a thousand times.

      “That's right. I know it was a long time ago, but I just want to say that I'm sorry about your dad.”

      Jesse looked down into his ice cream. “Thanks. I don't even remember him. I guess that's why I'm here.”

      The screen door screamed.

      “That's only part of the reason.”

      Both Jesse and Moose swung around. A tall, lean man dressed in a plaid, short-sleeved shirt and faded jeans walked toward them. His face was long, with broad cheekbones, and he wore a slight smile that crinkled his tanned, weathered face. Jesse caught his breath when he realized that the stranger's dark, friendly eyes were nearly identical to his own.

      “Uncle Matthew?”

      “Sorry I'm late, Jesse,” he offered, stopping in front of the boy. “Come on, now. Stand up. Let me take a look at my brother's son!”

      Jesse stood up, ignoring the ice cream that was beginning to trickle down his wrist. His uncle grinned and shook his head.

      “My, he looks like Thomas. What do you say, Moose?”

      “The spitting image,” agreed Moose.

      “Thanks for looking after him.”

      Moose nodded. “My pleasure. You three have a good time. And wish Jason good luck for me.”

      “I will.”

      Uncle Matthew reached down, swung Jesse's knapsack onto his shoulder and walked towards the door. Jesse followed his uncle out into the small parking lot. As he passed the garbage can, Jesse tossed away the remaining sticky mess of his cone.

      Next to the road was a mud-splattered pickup truck with the name “Matthew's Fishing and Hunting” emblazoned along the side. Uncle Matthew threw the knapsack into the back and circled around to the driver's door. Sitting in the cab was a young man. Jesse stopped short and looked up the road, hoping to see an approaching bus that could rescue him from getting into the truck.

      The teenager threw open the passenger door for Jesse.

      His uncle nodded at the truck. “Hop in.”

      Reluctantly, Jesse did as he was told. The older boy slid into the middle as Jesse climbed up onto the roomy bench seat. Uncle Matthew turned the key, and after a couple of chugs, the engine caught and the pickup pulled out onto the highway. The blast of air from the moving vehicle was a welcome relief to Jesse. Uncle Matthew glanced over at the two boys beside him.

      “Jesse, I want you to meet my son and your cousin, Jason.”

      “Hi, Jesse. Thanks for coming up to help me.”

      “Sure,” answered Jesse, but he had no clue what Jason was talking about.

      Jason looked at his dad, as if they could sense Jesse's confusion.

      “Jason is going on his vision quest,” remarked Matthew. “For our people, it's an important step on their way to adulthood. When you were born, your father asked me if you could accompany Jason on this day. He wanted